Wild Soul
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: Claudia Zacchara hires Jason Morgan to investigate the death of her brother, with his wife Elizabeth Zacchara the prime suspect.
1. Chapter 1

**Note – **This is going to be fun. Random Liason stories appearing here and there. You guys will never know when. Guess you'll just have to check back at SE more often!

**Wild Soul | 01**

**.: Queen of Angels Cemetery :.**

It was raining, and the smoke from his cigarette clung to him like a shroud. Frustrated by the thick cloud surrounding him, Jason growled and flicked the cigarette to the ground, not even bothering to grind it out with his heel. The grass was sopping wet and extinguished it before long, and the rain just kept falling.

It was a gray, muggy, wet afternoon where the cool breeze cut straight to the bone thanks to the oppressive moisture in the air.

It was the perfect afternoon for a funeral.

John Anthony Zacchara's casket was being lowered into the ground. Jason stood back, far away from the crowd to escape notice, and just watched. The group was made up mostly of tall, burly men with silver hair, dressed in impeccable black suits. Bodyguards wearing matching navy suits held umbrellas for their employers. The few children that made an appearance stood somberly by their parents. The women all stood with their hands clasped at their waists.

From where he was standing, he could see just the corner of the mahogany casket being lowered into the earth. Before long it disappeared from view and he saw the first signs of movement among the crowd.

The men went forward first, each one tossing a rose into the open grave. They drew back once the task was completed, their families quickly drawing close to them. The ritual was repeated and after a long moment's pause after bidding goodbye to the decedent, the men began to draw off and head toward their cars where personal drivers stood ready to get the doors.

Before long, only she remained.

She wore a long pencil skirt that hit just an inch above her knee with a matching blazer and black pumps with very high, very thin heels. Her outfit was slightly daring for such a conservative funeral, but she carried herself with grace and elegance even as she stood motionless, as still as the stone angels, staring down into the open grave with the last rose clutched in her hand.

Elizabeth Imogene Zacchara.

The grieving widow.

Jason licked his lips and watched her as she stood like a silent sentinel in the thick fog, unmindful of the fact that everyone else had drawn away. She was his mark, the one he'd been hired to watch and tail since a week or so before John Zacchara's untimely death.

It was his sister Claudia that had been fearful for her brother's life. A mob war had entangled her family, with her brother at its head, in a bitter struggle with rival family heads. From what he had gathered during the course of his investigation, Jason knew that the decedent's wife had played a key role in the struggle, and that Johnny had been determined to keep her safe throughout. In the end, he paid for her safety with his life.

Claudia hadn't seen it that way. She'd hired Jason as the mob war had started fizzling out. Johnny had emerged victorious, coming to own even more property and holdings due to the fact that to the victor came the spoils. He'd had more money and power than his family had ever enjoyed before, and he and his wife both emerged from the turmoil unharmed.

Jason had been confused when Claudia approached him. It was supposed to be a joyous time for the family. By most reports, John and Elizabeth were planning for their future now, and that future included Zacchara heirs to take their father's seat of power when it was time. Instead of celebrating, the oldest remaining Zacchara had been convinced that her brother wasn't entirely safe yet.

She suspected that there was something more going on between John and his young wife, something that neither one of them were letting on. Jason had started his investigation but hadn't been fast enough in uncovering answers.

Johnny Zacchara was dead within two weeks.

He'd expected Claudia to be devastated, and the older woman was. But she knew that this wasn't the time for her to fall apart, and had approached him and asked him to change tacks in his investigation. Now, more than ever, Claudia Zacchara was convinced that her sister-in-law was responsible for Johnny's untimely death.

It was hard to imagine that a woman like that, so petite, so fair with luminous blue eyes, tumbling dark locks, and skin that glowed ethereally, could be a cold-blooded killer, but Jason had been in the business for so long that nothing surprised him anymore.

She held that damn rose clenched so tightly in her hand that he was sure that the thorns were biting into her palm. A light drizzle began to fall as Jason slowly approached, coming up behind her. She didn't hear his footsteps on the wet grass, and Elizabeth jumped very slightly when he appeared next to her.

Jason nodded once, his gaze locking with hers, his stance respectful. "Ms. Zacchara."

She nodded back. "Elizabeth, please. And you are?"

He offered his hand and clasped hers gently, not shaking it, before letting it slip away. "Jason Morgan. I'm sorry for your loss."

Elizabeth nodded absently, turning her gaze back toward the open grave. Her husband's casket sat six feet below, covered in red and white roses. Hers remained in her hand. "Thank you."

She cleared her throat lightly and slid him a sidelong look. "I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you. Are – Were you a friend of John's? From university, perhaps?"

Jason shook his head. "No on both counts. Actually, I'm a friend of Claudia's."

Elizabeth's lips tightened at the corners at the mention of her sister-in-law, an expression not lost on Jason. "Ah. Claudia – I'm afraid she couldn't make it today."

That was an understatement. Claudia had already bid her respects to her brother and had staunchly refused to appear at the funeral since Elizabeth would be there.

"Yes, I'd noticed."

There was nowhere Elizabeth could run to. Everyone else, including her bodyguards, had drawn away to a respectful distance, thinking to give her one last moment with her husband. It was a foolish mistake, and he'd use it to his advantage to draw a true reaction from her.

His gaze flicked to her downcast eyes. "She thinks you killed him, you know."

Elizabeth's eyes widened and she snapped to attention, her spine stiff and straight, her shoulders squared, but that was all he got from her.

Jason licked his lips and eased just a little closer. "…And so do I."

Her sapphire eyes hardened at that, and Elizabeth turned her head slowly until she was looking him square in the eyes. Jason didn't flinch away. He just stared back at her, daring her to say something, daring her to cry, to deny it, to scream, to hit him, something that would belie her stiff, controlled, frigid demeanor.

Those faintly red lips parted and he leaned forward so as to be sure to catch every word when-

"Ms. Zacchara!"

Gunshots rang out. Screams echoed in the mist, sounding all the more unearthly as the sounds echoed and bounced and were muffled by the fog, and the well-wishers scattered, most of them ducking into their bullet-proof cars.

Only he and Elizabeth were left exposed, right by the gaping hole in the earth that enveloped her late husband. Without even stopping to think about it, Jason grabbed her around the waist and tackled her to the wet grass, covering the length of her petite frame with his, not leaving an inch exposed. She was stiff as a board underneath him, almost burrowing into the earth in an attempt to get away from him, but as the gunshots continued to ring out, he felt her small hands hesitantly fist the lapels of his jacket before she was fairly clinging to him, trusting him to keep her safe in the melee.

Finally, the gunshots stopped and he felt himself flanked by bodyguards. Gingerly, Jason pushed himself up, doing a mental check for injuries. Everything felt fine, some muscles protested with stiffness, but everything checked out.

He breathed a sigh of relief and accepted some help in standing before reaching down for Elizabeth. What he saw made him actually gasp.

She was on the grass, looking wet and rumpled and cold, and there was a large rip in the sleeve of her jacket, high on her arm. She fingered the rip and when she drew her hand away, he saw the sticky redness there on her fingertips and knew she'd been shot.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth against the pain as her bodyguards surrounded her and helped her up, and her blazing eyes found Jason's.

"Do you still think I am the one that killed him, Mister Morgan?"


	2. Chapter 2

**02**

**.: Crimson Manor :.**

"What the hell is going on here?"

Claudia Zacchara stormed into the grand foyer at the family's ancestral home just as Jason entered, holding the door open for the sandy-haired guard that held Elizabeth in his arms. And from the looks of it, she did not seem at all pleased to see her sister-in-law.

No one was surprised.

"Oh, hell no." She planted her hands on her hips and glared at the little group assembled in the doorway. Corwin, the guard carrying the young widow, pushed past Jason and into the foyer despite Claudia's clear disapproval. "What the hell is _she_ doing here? What, did you faint away at the funeral, wilting flower that you are?"

Jason saw Elizabeth grit her teeth as she gingerly adjusted her arm against Corwin's chest.

"Close. I got shot."

That made Claudia stop, and the older woman stared at the bandage on the brunette's arm. "…What?"

"Elizabeth and I were standing by the open grave," Jason stated, closing the door quietly as Corwin knelt to place Elizabeth in one of the handsome armchairs set up in the foyer. "Someone took shots at us."

Claudia hadn't moved and her eyes were still trained on her sister-in-law. "Where the _hell_ were her guards?"

The other one, Hayden or something, didn't flinch away from the terse inquiry. "It was our fault, Ms. Zacchara. We thought we'd give her a moment's privacy to say goodbye to John, and our carelessness got her shot."

"Don't apologize," Elizabeth murmured, gingerly fingering the bandage as Claudia drew closer to her side. "You were just trying to help. You had no idea that something like that would happen."

"But they should have," Claudia ground out, her dark eyes fairly throwing off sparks. "What the fuck do I pay them for, if not to always be on alert?"

"It was a bad situation, but it could have been a lot worse," Jason said, cutting her off. "At least she's alive."

"Yes." Elizabeth's calm sapphire eyes lifted to her sister-in-law's. "The man you hired to prove I killed your brother actually saved my life. So I suppose I should be thanking you for thinking me a cold-blooded killer. Thank you, Claudie, dear."

Her lip curled in a derisive sneer. "Oh, blow it out your-"

"Just stop," Jason cut in again, wondering if these two were always like this. He'd never had a chance to see Claudia and Elizabeth interact – he hadn't been working for the Zaccharas very long – but what he saw now struck him as rather disconcerting. Claudia oscillated between being oddly concerned about her sister-in-law to being downright antagonistic, and he found the contrast intriguing.

"That doesn't matter right now. We know now that we were wrong." He held Claudia's gaze sternly. "Someone came after Elizabeth, and it's possible that those same people were the ones that came after John."

"Or…" Steely brown eyes slid to the weak brunette in the oversized armchair. "The little dowager hired someone to nick her and make it _look_ like she was being targeted."

Jason gritted his teeth. "Are you honestly saying that you think she hired someone to almost kill her at her husband's funeral? What kind of woman would hire assassins to put a bullet through her just to throw someone off her trail?"

To his surprise, Elizabeth chuckled and when he looked down at her, Jason saw that she was smirking wearily. "…Claudia's done it before."

"Off the record," Claudia murmured, wearing a matching smirk. Jason's head was beginning to spin; these women, when together, were rapidly appearing to be more trouble than they were worth. "Easy does it, Jason. Your noble outrage isn't nearly as attractive as you think it is."

He glared at them both and watched Corwin kneel by Elizabeth's side again to adjust her bandage. All in all, Jason had been very impressed with the men that Elizabeth and Claudia had working for them. They'd surrounded the two of them by the grave almost instantly and got Elizabeth to safety. They'd insisted that Jason jump in the car as well, which was only smart since they had no way of knowing who he was or what he was doing with her.

Once they'd gotten in, Hayden sped off to the safety of the Zacchara estate as Corwin attended to Elizabeth. She'd been incredibly brave and composed, which impressed Jason endlessly. Thankfully, it was only a flesh wound so they weren't subjected to an emergency surgery in the back of a speeding car. Corwin applied pressure to the wound and then wrapped it up using the first aid kit kept in the back, then offered Elizabeth a travel-sized decanter of whiskey to take the edge off. She'd taken a few generous sips and then handed it back to him, not even wincing at the strong liquor.

And now she was sitting in that damn armchair that made her look so small and pale, desperately in need of rest.

"I'll look into it," Jason said coolly, working his jaw as he looked at Claudia. "But I can tell you right now, my instincts tell me that there's a connection. And that Elizabeth isn't behind this."

Claudia wasn't prepared to give an inch. "Are you in the habit of just stating your opinions as fact, Jason? Or do you plan on having that assistant of yours send me something solid?"

"Spinelli will be in touch," he replied tightly. "He'll pass along everything I find. I'm switching tasks right now: instead of looking into your brother's death, I'm going to look into the shooting at the funeral. I know I'll find a connection, and we'll go from there."

"Fine."

"Like I said, Spinelli will be in touch." The less he had to deal personally with Claudia Zacchara, the better. "Elizabeth, I…"

She waved him off when he faltered. "It's not necessary, Jason, whatever you were going to say. Thank you for saving me, and I hope your search uncovers something."

He nodded and glanced at her guard. "You should, uh, probably get upstairs and get some rest. I'll be in touch with you, personally, too, if you'd like."

Elizabeth eyed him assessingly and finally nodded. "Yes, I would. Why should my sister-in-law have all the fun?"

She shot Claudia a snide look that the old woman promptly returned, then reached out for Corwin's arm. "And I think you're right. I'd like to go upstairs and sleep this off, if that's all right."

"Not in my house, you won't," Claudia snorted, glaring at Corwin, whose phone had just started buzzing. "You're not welcome here anymore. All of your things were packed up this morning and they'll be shipped to you promptly, so you can just get out."

Jason just stared at her. "She was just _shot_. You're kicking her out of the only home she has?!"

"She's hardly destitute," she sneered, planting both hands on her hips. "My brother was very, very generous to the little snipe. How much money did he leave you, Elizabeth? How much of the Zacchara family fortune?"

Elizabeth glared at her, and her quick, darting glance at Jason made it clear that she wasn't the sort to speak about money instead of strangers. That didn't bother Jason; he'd just pull that information up on his own. It would take all of twenty seconds.

"You're not staying in my home," Claudia continued, her voice low and tight. "You are _not_ staying in the ancestral Zacchara home. Not for a minute longer. Have Corwin take you to that secret place Johnny bought you – if he ever gets off his phone."

Jason was gritting his teeth. "You can't just-"

"It's fine," Elizabeth cut in quickly, slipping her shoes back on. "She's right. Johnny and I do have our own private apartment. It's secure and fully fortified. If she's already gotten rid of my things, there's little point to staying here. Unless one chooses to stay for the exceptional company, I'm sure."

"Go die."

"If you had your way, I'm sure I would."

"It would be less than what you deserve."

Elizabeth's lips curled into a snarl but to her credit, she let it go. Turning away from Claudia, she looked up at Corwin, who was now staring down at his phone. "Corwin, could you please take me to my place instead?"

"I…That's going to be difficult." He tossed his phone to his other hand and grimly slipped it into his pocket. "…There was a gas leak in the building. Not everyone was able to get out, and about twelve people died."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "A gas leak."

Corwin nodded. "This morning."

He swore under his breath as Elizabeth slumped back in her chair. "Get any specifics?"

The guard arched a brow. "A reading of 92% LEL specific enough for you?"

"Fuck." Claudia ran a hand through her hair, her foot starting to tap on the carpet. "Shots at the funeral, John's apartment filling up with gas…"

"Still think she set it up herself?" Jason asked dryly, tipping his head toward Elizabeth.

"I _think_ that what I need to do is increase security on this house," Claudia snipped. "And as for you, you can get out. I don't need anyone finding out that you're still living in the house my brother left to _me_ in his will. They'd probably launch a missile at it."

Elizabeth's lips were pursed as she thought. "…I do have a place where I can go. A place no one knows about. I don't even think the deed is on record at Town Hall. I…I can go there. If Corwin and Hayden were to come."

"Corwin and Simon," Claudia corrected. "Hayden's my guard. You already know that."

She rolled her eyes. "Corwin and Simon. That'll be fine."

They heard a key in the lock just then and soon a tall man with broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper hair was letting himself in. Jason recognized him immediately as Trevor Lansing, the family lawyer and an old friend of the late Anthony Zacchara.

The lawyer stopped and gaped at the group assembled in the foyer, his gaze trained on Elizabeth and the rather conspicuous bandage on her arm. "…What in God's name is going on here? What happened?"

"Same old, same old," Claudia replied breezily. "The little miss got herself shot at."

"Elizabeth, dear." He was hurrying to her side, and Trevor dropped his briefcase and knelt by her chair, inspecting her arm. "Are you all right? How bad is it?"

"Just a flesh wound, Trevor." Jason watched closely as Elizabeth gently extricated her arm from the attorney's hold. "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise. My arm's still quite sore; it hurts to move it."

"Of course," he nodded. "When did it happen? At the funeral? Oh, I knew I should have stayed longer."

"You had work to do, Trevor," Claudia reminded him. "Johnny would have wanted his will to be settled immediately. You and Crowe were the only ones that could handle that."

Crowe was, from Jason's records, the family's business manager. He'd have to have Spinelli pull up more information on the guy if he wanted to know just how much money Elizabeth's late husband left to her, and what he left to his sister.

"Still…"

"I'm fine, Trevor," Elizabeth assured him. "It's just been a rough day, that's all. I'll be just fine."

"I'm going to go see if Cook has something prepared," he told her. "You need some good, hot food and a warm bed. I'll be right back."

Claudia snorted as she watched him leave. "You'll be gone before he finds a plate."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stood with Corwin's help. She adjusted the coat he set on her shoulders and finally looked up at Jason. "I was hoping I could discuss something with you before I left."

He nodded right away. "Sure."

The brunette glanced at Claudia, who arched a brow. "Plainly put, Jason…I'd like to hire you."

Jason blinked. "What?"

"I'd like to hire you," Elizabeth repeated. "I'd like you to work for me instead of my sister-in-law. I want you to find out who took shots at me at the funeral, who caused the leak at the apartment building where my husband quietly bought me a unit, how that ties into his death, if at all, and what that person wants. And I want you to report to me first."

Claudia snorted. "Are you planning on paying him with the money John left you?"

Elizabeth whirled on her. "Yes, Claudia, yes. I plan to pay him with the money _my husband_ left me. I plan to live in a house that _my husband_ built for me. And I don't particularly have it in me to care if _my husband's_ sister has a problem with that. Johnny left you this house and he left you the family business – mind that and leave me alone. Did you honestly think that he'd turn me out of the house without a penny to my name?"

"That's exactly what you deserve! You never should have married him in the first place!"

"I _did_ marry him and it's not my fault you can't accept that!" She teetered slightly, the exertion causing her dizziness. "My God, he's already in the ground and you're _still_ wailing about-"

"Don't you dare." Claudia stalked up to her and glowered down at the petite brunette, her words tight and her voice low. "I don't want to hear you talking about my brother anymore, do you understand? Just get out. He was the only one that tied us together and now that he's gone, I don't even want to see your face anymore."

"Your feelings are more than reciprocated," Elizabeth growled, turning at last to Jason. "What do you say? Do we agree? I'd like to settle this as soon as possible and leave."

"I…" He didn't really have anything to lose. And he was willing to bet that he'd prefer dealing with Elizabeth over Claudia anytime. "Um…"

"I'll pay you double what she's paying you."

"All right."

"Good." She resisted when Corwin tried to pick her up and settled instead for his arm around her waist and her hand in his. "Do stay in touch, Jason. I look forward to hearing from you."


	3. Chapter 3

**03**

**.: Headquarters :.**

And just like that, he was working for Elizabeth Zacchara instead of Claudia.

Jason had to admit, he liked the way it worked out. He had nothing against Claudia as far as clients went; she was professional, she was tough, and she spoke her mind. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was demure, reticent, mysterious, and he already knew that she didn't trust him enough to be open with him the way her sister-in-law did and was.

They were both nice to look at, though, so they were evenly matched in that category. Brunettes had always been a weakness of his.

"Stone Cold." His partner, a young man by the name of Damien Spinelli, was typing away on his laptop when Jason entered his office. As always, Spinelli was seated at _his_ desk. "What's up?"

"Your ass," Jason muttered, tossing his hat on the leather armchair before struggling with his coat. "My chair. Move."

Spinelli dutifully grabbed his laptop and flopped onto the couch next to the desk by the radiator. It crackled and he kicked it, and it went back to humming pleasantly. One of these days, that dumb kid was going to burn the joint down.

"We're not working for Claudia Zacchara anymore."

Spinelli looked at him. "Really…"

"Nope." Jason tossed his suit jacket onto the coat rack and flopped down in his leather desk chair. It was still warm from when his partner had been sitting in it. "We're working for Elizabeth now."

"The not-so-merry widow," the young man murmured. "She hired us? Really? Does she know that you were-"

"Investigating her for her husband's death?" He paused and then nodded. "Yeah. Didn't really seem to faze her. 'Course, the gunshots could have had something to do with that."

Spinelli gawked at him, then groaned. "Not again. What happened? Obviously, you're not hurt, but this is something we're going to have to look into real fast."

"At the funeral this morning – Elizabeth and I were standing by the grave and someone took shots at us." He made a slicing motion across his bicep with his index finger. "She was clipped right here. Flesh wound, though. She's fine."

"Good," he murmured. "Must have been pretty freaked out by it, though."

"…Not really," Jason replied slowly. "She was in pain, yeah, and she was confused and scared, but once she was fixed up, she seemed almost…clinical about it. She wanted to know who did it, and why. And she wanted me to find out."

"Guess that's the price of being married to a mobster," Spinelli shrugged. "I wonder if it's the first time she's been shot."

The thought troubled him and Jason frowned, trying to push it out of his head. He'd seen the dark, sticky blood on Elizabeth's pale skin, seen her grit her teeth against the pain and stifle her yelps, and he didn't want to imagine her having gone through that multiple times.

"Wonder why she was so quick to hire you, though," the boy continued to muse.

"I have an honest face," Jason deadpanned.

Spinelli smirked. "Look, all I mean is, she found out you thought she killed John, she got her arm almost shot off, and she hired you. Why?"

"I think it's because Claudia hired me," Jason admitted. "They have this weird relationship. They're always trying to one-up each other, always fighting, but it's like they respect each other, too. Elizabeth knows about the things Claudia's done, and Claudia's protective of Elizabeth in her own fucked up way, and…I don't know. I think she saw that Claudia trusted me enough to tell me the details about their family, so she went off that."

"Trusting the family member that thinks you killed another family member," Spinelli muttered. "That's how it's done, all right. Okay, so you need me to see what I can find on this shooting, right?"

Jason nodded. "The cemetery's across the way from part of the corporate area. There should be some security cameras and traffic cameras set up there. Dig around for those feeds and see what you can find. Angles, trajectories, anything that'll be of use."

"Consider it done." He stretched out on the couch, legs kicking in the air, and began to type. As he did, he glanced over the top of the screen at his mentor. "You learn anything else from your visit with the Zacchara girls?"

"I told you about their relationship, right?" Jason rubbed his chin, thinking back to the scene in the foyer. "It's clear that they don't like each other. Hell, Claudia even thinks that Elizabeth killed John. And Elizabeth doesn't trust Claudia for a second. But for all their antagonism…they have this weird protective attitude toward each other."

"Kind of a them-against-the-world thing?"

"I guess," Jason frowned. "But even that doesn't make sense. There's so much bad blood there, obviously. And I'm wondering why that is, in the first place. And then, to see them being almost defensive about each other…it makes me wonder what they're hiding."

"Like, maybe they have a reason to hate each other, mutually, but that reason also binds them together because they don't want it to get out?" Spinelli guessed, trying to fill in the blanks. "Something like that."

"More or less, yeah."

"Well, what did you think?" the young man asked again. "You're pretty good when it comes to getting a read on things. Don't think too hard about it, but what was your first impression? What was your gut instinct?"

"My gut instinct was that this wasn't your normal family," Jason said slowly. "And that this wasn't your normal marriage."

"Something to go on," Spinelli shrugged, typing away again. "Your first instincts are always good, Stone Cold. Why doubt yourself this time?"

"Yeah, you're right."

"No, I'm asking," he disagreed. "I'm seriously asking: why are you doubting yourself this time? You're kind of goose-stepping around these questions, and I'm trying to figure out why."

Jason pulled a face. "I'm not goose-stepping."

"Yes, you are. Normally, whenever we take a case, you're the straight shooter." He paused to fiddle with the touch pad and only spoke up when he'd resumed typing. "You don't give a crap about what you're asking and who you're asking it of. Tact isn't exactly your strong suit, you know."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean." He rolled his eyes even as he worked. "But this time around, with this case, you're goose-stepping. Beating around the bush. Whatever nature-inspired metaphor you want to use, you're doing it. Why?"

"Her husband just died."

Spinelli's somber green eyes found his, narrowed just a little. "See, I think that's only half of it."

"Yeah? What's the whole of it, then, if you're so smart?"

"Her," he replied simply.

"Her?"

"Her."

"Who's the her in that sentence?"

"Elizabeth Zacchara, naturally."

Jason wrinkled his nose. "…Her?"

Spinelli shook his head at his mentor's density. "Look, don't take this the wrong way. I just think that you're different around her. The first time you met her, you announced your suspicion that she killed her husband."

Jason rolled his eyes. "That was to gauge her reaction. I had a plan with that."

"You freaked out when she got shot."

"I didn't freak out."

"You did everything you could to help her, even getting her patched up and taking her home and telling her everything," Spinelli pointed out. "Remember when we were investigating the case with the money-laundering, and that kid got shot? You stayed long enough to make sure he was alive and that it wasn't serious, and then you said, let the nurses deal with it, we're done here."

"That was different. The kid was just grazed."

"So was Mrs. Zacchara."

"She's not a Missus anymore."

Spinelli's gaze became heavy-lidded. "See what I mean?"

"What?" Jason asked defensively. "Just because you're all tied up in knots about her doesn't mean I am. I've handled plenty of cases with beautiful women, and without you, if you remember."

The young man just shrugged. "So maybe you're due."

"Due for what?" Jason got out through gritted teeth. "Choose your words carefully."

Spinelli smirked but didn't reply, knowing that it would infuriate his boss. Sure enough, Jason scowled and spent the next ten minutes glowering at the wall as Spinelli worked feverishly.

"Find anything yet?"

"No."

With a huff, Jason got up from his seat and grabbed his coat, heading for the door. Spinelli looked up after him, frowing.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out, where?"

"Just out."

He shut the door behind him, grateful to be away from the kid's annoying questions, and gave himself a brisk shake. Spinelli had no idea what he was talking about, which wasn't shocking at all. Aside from computers, the brat didn't know much about the world.

He'd let Spinelli work on pulling up whatever information he could get from the cameras. In the meantime, he wanted to make sure that the recent Zacchara widow was tucked out of harm's way, and that meant paying her a personal visit.

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Elizabeth's Safe House :.**

From the outside, it looked like an abandoned warehouse. Everything was carefully padlocked, with RESTRICTED and DANGER signs posted everywhere. The fences were all locked up with barbed wire on top and the land around the building was stripped bare. The plot was located in the middle of the old industrial part of town anyway, which looked more like a ghost town now.

But across the street was a private garage, and from there an underground tunnel that led into the supposedly abandoned warehouse. Whereas it looked downright dilapidated from the outside, the third floor from the top had been renovated into a very spacious apartment, carefully hidden from the outside world. All the other floors were in ruins, but the one her husband had built for her was a study in elegance and luxury. The windows were tinted, hiding the massive bedchambers with private bathroom suite, the living room with the handsome pianoforte in the corner, the room with the easels and watercolors and charcoals that he knew she loved, and the kitchen with the tall counters and stainless steel appliances. There were more closets than she knew what to do with, and even a little library for her books.

John had seen to every last detail to make sure that she would be at home here if anything ever happened, and that she would be well cared for. His top bodyguards knew of the location and had select staff members at the ready to bring food and toiletries and anything else desired via the underground tunnel so that Elizabeth could just stay here for days, weeks, months, even years if she felt like it.

And as she stood in the center of her new apartment, looking out at the deserted industrial complexes from her tinted windows, Elizabeth was immensely grateful for that. Because after the events of the past week – a dead husband, a barrage of associates descending on her mausoleum of a house, an unbearable sister-in-law who had the gall to suspect her as a killer, and a callous private investigator that had been hired to prove it – she just wanted to crawl into the four-post bed under the 600-thread count sheets and never come out.

John Zacchara was a man of impeccable tastes. And though it showed with the furnishings he'd selected for this apartment, she could also see the care he put into the place to choose things he knew she'd like. And that eased some of the resentment that colored her life over the past two years.

He wasn't a bad man, even though sometimes, her memory tricked her into thinking he was.

Corwin and Simon had made sure that the refrigerator and the pantry were well stocked, but right now, all Elizabeth cared about was how well the wet bar was stocked. She padded over to the counter on bare feet, grateful for the heated floors on this rainy New England afternoon, and ignored the throbbing in her wounded arm. It was nothing a little tequila couldn't fix.

There was tequila, thankfully, and also plenty of vodka and whiskey. There was no scotch, which made her smile until she thought she might be happy, but the blurring of her vision caught her by surprise, insisting that what she felt creeping up on her was sharp and almost unfounded melancholia. John knew she hated the taste of scotch. He didn't even bother putting any in the wet bar for her.

Elizabeth pulled out the tequila and didn't bother getting anything else. Normally she had hers with lime and salt, but she didn't much feel like going to all the trouble right now. The bitter, stinging taste felt like it would be appropriate for how she felt.

She considered being civilized for a moment and retrieving a clean glass, then decided, the hell with it. The hell with all of it. She never drank much during her tenure as a Zacchara. The same wasn't true for Claudia and John, not by any means. In fact, she knew that John had never consumed more liquor than he did during their marriage. The same was true for Claudia.

But Elizabeth would restrict herself to champagne at business functions and the occasional glass of wine with dinner, never any more. She never got drunk because she was afraid of what she might say or do, and she couldn't afford to slip up. But now, with her husband dead and her sister-in-law finally gone, now, it was time to drink and drink well.

She was sick of being the doll in the dollhouse, sealed off from any possibility of escape. And now that she had found her freedom, it came to her in the worst possible way: in the form of a dead husband. And that almost made her ill. There didn't seem to be much left to do except to drink it all away – at least, for tonight.

She'd managed to pull the cork out of the bottle when she heard a knock on the door, and when she opened it, a guard was standing with Jason Morgan behind him, silently asking her if it was all right to let him in.

Elizabeth shoulders slumped a little. She was disappointed to see him standing there. Despite his rugged good looks and unearthly eyes – really, the only redeeming qualities he had – Jason Morgan was the last person she wanted to see right now.

But if she turned him away, he'd read too much into it and probably revert back to his theory that she was hiding something, which might lead him back to the theory that she killed her husband, despite how he'd defended her to Claudia earlier. And Elizabeth wasn't prepared to deal with all that. After all, even if he was working for her didn't mean that he trusted her or felt any loyalty to her. Being on the inside of the Zacchara organization had taught her that lesson well.

So Elizabeth nodded at the guard and, leaning against the door, took a big swig from the bottle. Jason's eyes widened a little, and she could tell he hadn't been expecting that. Elizabeth brushed her hair out of her face, her gaze heavy-lidded, and swept a hand toward the rest of the apartment.

"Join me for a drink, Jason?"

She had no way of knowing that he'd come over to see what information he could get out of her about her marriage to John, and that Jason was actually pleased to see her with a bottle of liquor in hand because it made his job that much easier.

All Elizabeth saw was his barely suppressed smile as he entered, his broad shoulders making the doorway look small, and his easy, unaffected air.

"Of course, Elizabeth."


	4. Chapter 4

**Note – **The creepy banner with a doll-like Elizabeth staring at the dove in flight? That was a real picture of Becky – as in, I didn't take her head and put it on someone else's body. That is her, sitting in that couch. The pictures are from an Atlanta event about a year or two ago. Hee.

**04**

**.: Headquarters :.**

Spinelli was fast asleep when Jason entered the offices again around three in the morning, but the slam of the door had him up and groaning, rubbing at his eyes as he wished his mentor would just evaporate.

"Well?" Jason half-barked in his excitement. "Did you get my message?"

"To find whatever I could about the happily married couple?" His voice was gruff and Spinelli wearily forced himself to sit up. "Yeah, I did."

"Good, good." He'd just gotten back from a fruitless night of drinking with Elizabeth Zacchara, and Jason was too wound up to do anything but jump right back into the case. "And did you find anything about the shooting at the funeral?"

Spinelli shook his head, blinking against the bright light that now filled the office as Jason smacked the coffee maker around, persuading it to make them another pot. "There was nothing. Couldn't get a single good angle, even a good audio feed. Complete dead end."

Jason swore but didn't let that stop him. "Okay, pull up whatever you found on John and Elizabeth. I've got the records and the paperwork here with me, let's see what you've got."

"How'd your night go?" he asked groggily, shaking his computer out of its hibernated state. "Weren't you plying her with booze to get her to talk?"

"Trying to," Jason groused. "I kept pouring my tequila into a potted plant and getting more, to look like I was as drunk as she was. I kept talking, kept asking her questions, but she didn't say much of anything."

"Did she just get boozed up and pass out?"

"She didn't pass out, but she might as well have," he frowned. "I got nothing out of her. Nothing. Except that John was a good husband and he got her that apartment of hers and that Claudia was a shrew who was against the wedding from the start, not that any of that mattered because John couldn't be persuaded against it. After that, I kept asking her questions but she just kept shrugging and deflecting with monosyllabic answers. And the odd grunt."

"So basically, when she drinks, she's you."

Jason glared at him. "Just pull up what you have."

"Like I said, the cemetery shooting thing was a complete bust, but it took up a lot of time, so I didn't get to do a fully exhaustive search on the Zaccharas' blissful union."

"Stop making excuses and just pull it up."

"I found their wedding announcement and I found a ton of pictures." The corner of his tongue poked out of his mouth as he waited for the massive folder to open. "They're outtakes that I found on the hard drive of the Manhattan-based photographer they used. He's the one that was there when Kennedy O'Toole married Melania Kerr at the Plaza."

"Who?"

"Oh, come on, he's the biggest movie star of our – never mind." A little perturbed as his mentor's dogged ignorance of pop culture, Spinelli tried to shake it off. "Anyway, he's the one that John got to take pictures of him and Elizabeth when they got married. He's a big name, one of the very best. John spared no expense for the wedding."

"Really." The corner of Jason's mouth curved up and he tossed a file folder at his young partner. "Because, according to these records, the two of them got married at Crimson Manor. The named witnesses were his sister and his butler. There were no guests."

Spinelli's jaw dropped and he gingerly reached for the file. "How'd you find that out?"

"Bribed a clerk at town hall for the information," Jason admitted. "Old woman, barely needed any incentive to talk. She said she remembered the paperwork being filed and that it all looked like it had been done hastily. It was filed by two men in suits, obviously John's guards, and the names on the certificate were Claudia Magdalena Zacchara and some man called Reivers."

"The butler."

"Yeah. And while she was taking care of it, she remembered hearing one of the guards tell the other that John and Elizabeth had left the manor as soon as the ceremony was over. She had friends in Crimson Pointe and no one in that town knew of the wedding until after it had happened."

"It was just a family affair," Spinelli murmured. "They didn't invite anyone. They just called the priest over, got it done, and grabbed the first two witnesses they could."

"Exactly."

"Even the wedding announcement I found was after the fact," he added, eagerly turning his screen for his mentor to see. "They were already married at this point. You can tell that it was hastily thrown together because the paper needed it to be in that section that morning, as soon as news broke. They don't even have a proper photo – they used a file photo for John and a file photo for Elizabeth."

He turned his computer back around and pulled up another article. "The one they ran two days later was longer and had more stuff about the wedding and the parties involved. This time, they have a real photo of the two of them together. It's one of the ones I found on the Elterman Photography server."

"They took the picture later and then sent it out to all the relevant magazines and newspapers as part of a quick press junket," Jason guessed. "Explains the statements I found from Johnny's spokesman and PR guy."

"Here are the photos." Spinelli put the computer on the table so Jason could see and began clicking through the pictures in a slide show. "These are from the actual wedding."

Sure enough, there were several shots of Johnny and Elizabeth standing in front of a priest. Jason recognized him from the file photo that he'd seen earlier that week when he was digging for information. Father Coates or something. He'd baptized Johnny and had been there with him through communion and confession, everything.

John Zacchara was wearing an elegant black tuxedo, no surprise. He was a tall, strapping man with naturally tan skin, warm brown eyes, and a wide, pleasing smile. He looked perfectly at ease in all of the pictures and knew how to work the camera. It was why he was somewhat of a darling of the press; there wasn't a single bad situation that the young mobster hadn't been able to turn around in his favor through the use of his skilled PR team and a dazzling grin.

Jason loathed that.

Elizabeth was next to her husband in every shot, wearing a floor-length dress that nipped in at her gentle curves and clung to her chest, the lace skirts lapping at the floor. Her hair was partially swept up in a design that was meant to look casually fancy, but was too carefully pinned and fussed with to be properly casual.

She looked pale in every picture. Her eyes were wide, giving the illusion of wide-eyed and open youthfulness, but there was more to it than that, he was sure of it. Jason's eyes fixed on her smile, on those plush berry lips that curved upward in every picture. He stared and squinted, but he couldn't find anything there. Her smile was perfect in every last photo.

Spinelli was watching him scrutinize the pictures, knowing that Jason was picking up things he never would have seen. "Well? First impressions?"

"She's pale. White."

"She's very pale naturally," Spinelli shrugged. "I've never even seen her in person and even I can tell you that. She just has that milky kind of skin."

Jason shook his head. "She's not _that _pale, not even in person. At first I thought it was just the light, but look at John. Look at Claudia. The light's not strong enough to completely wash her out."

"Claudia actually looks happy in these shots."

"Not at all," Jason disagreed. "Look at her smile. Too thin. Look at her eyes. Not crinkling. Her smile's not reaching her eyes."

"Have you ever seen her smile? A real smile?"

"That doesn't matter. When you smile when you're happy, the eyes crinkle just a little bit. Their shape changes, too. She's holding her mouth carefully, making sure to look like she's happy. It's almost working."

"What else? What about Elizabeth's smile?"

"…Nothing," he finally sighed, making Spinelli take notice. "There's nothing wrong her smile."

"…You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Getting that look on your face." He arched a brow at his mentor when Jason snarled. "Frankly, it's disgusting. You should have that looked at."

Jason rolled his eyes. "Look at her hair. That was what caught my attention."

"Never figured you were much on women's fashion."

"Will you just shut up and listen?" Jason pointed out the updo in the pictures. "Look at it. It just looks…wrong. Like they're trying to make it look like everything is causal and spontaneous and all that shit, but her hair's all stiff and put down with a bunch of pins. Doesn't it just look wrong to you? Spinelli?"

When he looked over, it was clear that Spinelli's gaze was a little due south of Elizabeth's curls and resting squarely on her décolletage. "Oh, grow up."

"What? I wasn't doing anything."

Jason rolled his eyes again. He was sure that at some point, they'd just roll on out of his head with the way he kept doing that.

"Look at their hands."

"They're holding hands in almost every shot."

"No. He's holding her hand. She's clutching his hand. Look at her fingers." He pointed it out on the screen. "She's got her hand wrapped tightly around his. Look at her knuckles. She's using her whole hand to grip only three of his fingers in this shot. He's holding hers casually, and she's gripping him like…like…"

"Like she's scared."

Jason nodded jerkily. "Yeah. And in this shot…"

Spinelli leaned closer. "He's not holding her arm to keep her close. He's holding her arm to…keep her standing!"

"Good eye," he encouraged him. He liked to see his young partner building up these skills. They were vital for this business, after all. "Look at how Claudia's watching them in this shot. She doesn't know that she's in frame. She's watching them like she's waiting for something to go wrong and hoping it doesn't."

Spinelli rubbed a hand over his mouth and turned toward him. "You really think their marriage was a sham."

"I think there might be evidence that would indicate that," Jason said honestly. "I also think that there might be a reasonable explanation. Maybe she loved him but was scared because she knew what marrying him meant. It meant that she'd forever be embroiled in the more violent aspect of his life. Maybe she wasn't feeling well. I don't think this is conclusive evidence, but I think it hints at a possibility."

"Are you going to keep working on Elizabeth to get more information?" Spinelli wanted to know. "It's a shame your thing about getting her drunk didn't work."

"I walked right into that one, too," Jason frowned. "She had the bottle in her hand when I showed up. She had no way of knowing I was coming. She was ready to drink. But she didn't give me anything I could use."

"Maybe she's just a quiet drunk."

"Or maybe…" He stared at the picture, one of John and Elizabeth kissing, their hands tightly entwined. "…She's smarter than I thought."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Elizabeth's Quarters :.**

She woke up late, which was very unlike her. John was the one that liked to sleep in when he could; she was the one that wanted to be up early to get started with her day. By the time he managed to stagger out of their bedroom, she'd already done her yoga, eaten a light pre-breakfast of fruit, walked their dog, fed her birds, and read half of the morning paper.

But today was different. Today, she would do whatever the hell she wanted, even if that was nothing. She didn't know how she'd cope with actually doing _nothing_, which was very much against her nature, but she'd deal with it as it came.

Elizabeth had wanted nothing more last night than to nurse her bottle of tequila until the wee hours of the morning, but Jason Morgan had spoiled that. He had shown up unannounced, one of her pet peeves, as she never saw anyone until they had properly called ahead to let her know they were coming.

But he'd shown up anyway and despite her wishes, she'd let him in and shared her tequila with him. She knew why he was there: to scope her out. But she wouldn't give it to him. She pretended to get drunk with him but had actually been pacing herself. She did get drunk, sure, but he appeared to get drunk faster and she maintained enough of her composure to keep her mouth shut when he started asking all of those questions about her and Johnny.

Oh, God, those questions. Such alarmingly personal questions that she had to struggle to keep herself from balking, and remain grateful that he would think the color in her cheeks was from the tequila and not his impertinence.

He'd wanted to know when and how she and Johnny had met, which was harmless enough. Then he wanted to know about their first kiss, about what his father thought about her, what his sister thought of her, what her parents thought of him, and particularly what her uncle Richard, the police commissioner, thought of him. She'd slurred her way through that, saying something about putting aside differences for the sake of a young couple's happiness but never fully letting go of that disappointment.

Then he wanted to know about how she liked living at Crimson Manor, how it was different from her home in Port Charles. He wanted to know about how she got along with Johnny's friends, how attracted she was to her dashing young husband, what the wedding was like, where they went on their honeymoon, even the first time they had sex.

As the questions became racier and racier, Elizabeth pretended to be more drunk than she actually was and just offered short, relatively meaningless answers. Some time in the early morning, he'd grown weary of it and left, and she was able to crawl into bed and try to forget everything that had just happened.

The biggest shame was that a perfectly good bottle of tequila had gone to waste.

Ah, well, there was always tonight. Or…right now.

Elizabeth looked longingly at the wet bar before shaking herself out of it. She needed to wash up and just clear her head for a bit before indulging again. And this time, if Jason Morgan showed up, he could just sit outside for all she cared. It was a good thing that no one knew that he was here, otherwise she'd be able to hear the gossip mill churning with reports of her entertaining a handsome man all alone so soon after her husband's passing.

"Oh, Johnny."

The words were out of her mouth before she even realized it, and Elizabeth fought the confounding urge to cry. It always sneaked up on her when she least wanted it to, and she hated how powerless she was against it.

A quick, cold shower went a long way in helping her shake it off. She needed that jolt and was glad for it as she toweled off, forgoing the hair dryer and just letting her hair dry naturally in loose curls.

After that, it was time to read the paper, her normal routine. But there was nothing normal about the day, her first completely on her own in the past two years, so Elizabeth soon tired of the newspaper and left it alone.

Bare feet, sticking slightly to the polished hardwood, carried her listlessly across the room over to where the pianoforte stood. Johnny had loved his grand piano, the gleaming black monstrosity that sat in the middle of his private parlor. He could play on that thing for hours.

Right before they wed, when she was lying curled up on his couch in the fetal position, he had played one of Mozart's symphonies continuously for about two and a half hours, knowing that the music would soothe her and it had. When Claudia had turned up with the news, bringing Father Coates along with her, Elizabeth had been in much better shape than before and was able to stand and move around and get ready for the ceremony.

She sat down on the bench, shifting a little on the cushion. Johnny always made fun of little pianofortes. They were for girls, he said, with their ornate design and fussy little benches with the pillows, the light frames with no bracing. But Elizabeth had seen one in an old picture of his grandparents and admired it, so he bought her one the next day. He was always doing things like that. Elizabeth only let him because she saw how doting gestures like that annoyed Claudia.

Her fingers settled on the keys. She didn't really play much, but her grandmother had insisted that she take lessons when she was a little girl. It was what all proper Webber women did, after all. Johnny had attempted to teach her to play on his black behemoth, but Elizabeth had never been very interested in that. She liked hearing him play more than she ever desired to do so herself.

She found a familiar melody and caught hold of it, letting it pull her along through her memories of her husband. One of Mozart's lighter concertos, easy enough to play, difficult to forget. The notes were made slow and lonely by her untrained and lagging fingers, but Elizabeth didn't pick up the pace. The plinking sounds filled the apartment, and she was grateful for the noise.

As rich as they were, the notes still didn't drown out the sound of a knock at the door. Elizabeth looked over and sighed, not caring enough to get up and find out who it was. She was once again breaking her rule about uninvited guests but, again, couldn't seem to muster up the will to care.

"Come in."

The door creaked open and she saw Jason standing there. Immediately, her heart sank a little. Odious man. Dealing with him was exhausting and she was sure he knew that, the bastard. What was more, she was sure he counted on that.

"Elizabeth." He put his hat down on a table near the door, and that annoyed her. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better after I washed up and had something to eat," she replied calmly, remembering that she was supposed to be mildly hung over. "You?"

"Just fine, thanks," he replied easily, and it rankled with her. He had no business sounding so…like he wasn't at all disturbed or uneasy or out of sorts. None at all. "Thanks for inviting me to join you last night."

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed a little. She couldn't have imagined it – the way he growled the last part of the sentence, making it sound more lascivious than it needed to. She chose to ignore it. "Not at all."

If he was looking for some kind of qualifier – _I don't have many male friends; I've been feeling so alone; I was glad you dropped by _– he didn't get it. He wouldn't get it. Not from her.

Jason waited a beat, then seemed to lose hope and move on. "I came by because I needed to talk to you about something."

She didn't offer him a place to sit. He looked as if he was expecting that she would and when nothing came of it, he moved through the room and closer to her. His tall, broad frame seemed to swallow up the room, spacious as it was, but Elizabeth held her ground. She would not give this shrewd man an inch.

"Oh?"

"It's about the investigation."

Elizabeth arched a brow at him. "Do you know who killed my husband?"

Jason shook his head. "No-"

"Then I hardly think we need to speak," she interrupted, turning her attention back to the pianoforte. "You are simply to come to me when you have the answers I need."

The corners of his mouth curved upward and she was nervous for a moment that he had seen her little game. And indeed he had. "Oh, I don't think so."

Her eyes narrowed. "Jason, I must insist that you-"

"And I have to insist that you do a few things," he countered, standing so close to her now that her breath hitched with anger and anxiety. "I don't know what kinds of people you're used to dealing with, _Ms. Zacchara_…"

Her palm itched to slap him for that.

"But I'm not a sycophant that's going to appear when you snap your fingers and bow out when you're done." His electric eyes glittered dangerously and the air around them seemed to roll and crackle with energy. Elizabeth stayed firm, knowing he was just trying to intimidate her.

"I believe I hired you to do a job, _Mister Morgan_." She rose from her seat on the bench and walked toward the door, giving him no choice but to follow. "As you have not completed it, I must ask you to leave and return once you have."

"Let me tell you how this is going to work. He stood in the threshold of the door that she held wide open, making it very clear that he was not just going to make this easy and leave. "I'm here to find out who killed your husband. Whether you're paying me or Claudia is doesn't really matter. I'm just here to get answers."

A mocking smile touched her lips. "At least we can agree on that."

He ignored her. "And I can't do my job unless I'm told everything. And I do mean _everything_."

She shivered just a little when he leaned in on the last word.

"I need to know everything about your marriage to him, about your family, about your future plans, all of it," he half-snapped at her. "And if you make that difficult for me, I'll have to find out on my own, which I can assure you will be a far more painful process for you and all those concerned. Because I always find what I'm looking for, one way or another."

Elizabeth tried to look bored and must have succeeded, because Jason's eyes flashed with impatience. "Do you understand, Elizabeth? I can't find out who killed your husband and keep them from killing you unless you tell me everything. Every last thing that might be of use to me. Do you understand? You have to turn your life over to me, that's the only way this is going to work."

"I don't know why you're so worried, showing up here and making threats," Elizabeth said calmly, gripping the door. "After all, you said you always get what you need. Why should either of us be concerned?"

Her eyes narrowed and her register dropped, and Jason could just stared as she became dangerous in her own right. "Because I need to make sure that _you_ understand, Jason: I don't turn my life over to anyone. Not anymore."

And with that, Elizabeth jerked her hand forward, causing the door to fly at him. Jason only barely managed to jump back in time to avoid getting hurt as it slammed shut in his face.


	5. Chapter 5

**05**

**.: Headquarters :.**

"So?" Spinelli looked up as Jason stormed into the office. "Learn anything new from your meeting with Elizabeth?"

"I learned that she's a frigid bitch," Jason snarled, flinging his coat and hat onto the couch. "God fucking damn it, that woman…"

"Have a brownie," Spinelli offered, gesturing to the pan that was cooling on the windowsill. The happiest day in his recent life had been when he'd been able to convince his boss to get a mini-kitchen installed in the office. They spent all their time there, so they might as well have some means of sustenance.

"I don't want a fucking brownie," Jason growled, flopping down in his chair. "Elizabeth pisses me the fuck off."

"Well, sure, we've established that," Spinelli agreed, sitting on the arm of the couch. "What happened? What did she say?"

"The damn twit's trying to hide things from me. She doesn't get that if I'm going to find out who killed John and keep them from killing her, she's going to have to tell me shit."

"You mean, about her marriage? About their life together?"

"For starters," Jason replied testily. "Apparently, she can't come to terms with that. She nearly took my hand off when she slammed the door in my face and told me to go get fucked."

Spinelli's dark brows jumped. "She told you to get fucked?"

"…Not in so many words," he admitted. "But the implication was definitely there."

"You sure you don't want a brownie?"

"No," Jason snapped. "I'm fine."

"Well, okay, so she told you to go get fucked," Spinelli shrugged, linking his fingers together. "Did she do so unprovoked?"

"What are you getting at?"

"What did you say to her?"

"I told you, I told her she'd have to be honest with me."

Spinelli's eyes narrowed, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Somehow, I doubt you were as tactful as that. Come on, Stone Cold, what did you really say?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "…I might have said that she had to turn her life over to me. And I might have threatened her."

His young partner sighed. "And you don't think that could have been a contributing factor?"

"Well…"

"Your deductive skills are slipping, Stone Cold." He took a brownie from the pan on the windowsill and offered Jason one. This time, Jason took it, which Spinelli had been counting on.

"Shut up."

He took a delicate bite of his brownie as he watched Jason just stuff the whole thing unceremoniously into his. "What on earth did you have to go and threaten her for?"

"I knew she'd be…"

"Difficult?"

"Yes. And cryptic. And frigid."

"So you've said." He nibbled on his brownie as he handed Jason another one, pleased when his mentor started chomping on it immediately. "And you really thought that threatening her would get you anywhere?"

Jason shrugged lamely. "I figured…I don't know." This time, he reached for another brownie on his own. Spinelli contained a smile. "I figured, she just lost her husband. Even if her marriage was a sham – even if we're going out on a limb on that one – even so, she still cared about him. Obviously. I figured she was scared, I figured she was lonely, now that she has no real family since the Webbers pretty much disowned her when she married John…I figured that she'd be scared enough to go along with it."

"And now you're surprised that she didn't wilt and give you everything you wanted." Spinelli picked up the tray. "Another brownie?"

"No, thanks," Jason grumbled. "I'm stuffed. Those tasted kind of funny."

"I used a little too much mint extract," he explained lightly, watching his mentor slump back in his chair. It wouldn't be long now. "Instead of crying and flailing her arms and basically doing whatever you wanted, she told you to get fucked."

"Pretty much."

"So, she's obviously smart," he said, ticking it off on his fingers as Jason glared. "And she's obviously feisty enough to tell you where to stick it. And she's obviously not as afraid as you'd counted on her being. That's an important clue."

Jason sat up a little. He hadn't thought about it that way before. "You're right. You're absolutely right. You'd think that for a woman who just lost her husband to mob violence, was kicked out of the fortified family home, was almost gunned down by her husband's grave and still has a fresh wound to pick at, she'd be a lot more scared and a lot more willing to comply."

"Especially with the man she hired – the man she _trusts_ – to keep her safe," Spinelli pointed out.

Jason nodded eagerly. "Yeah, yeah. But she was acting like it was business as usual – she was ordering me around just like she'd order the maids around at Crimson Manor. Do this, do that, don't come back to me until everything's done. Her behavior's off. And it's another clue – we have to figure out why."

"What are you thinking, off the top of your head?"

"Maybe she has connections to John's world that we aren't aware of," Jason suggested. "Powerful friends, extended family, anyone that she knows will protect her while I sort this thing with John out. Maybe she thinks I'm expendable: she'll keep the detective running around on this goose chase because it'll keep him out of her hair, and if he gets plucked off, so what? She's covered either way."

"You really think she'd think of it that way?"

Jason shrugged. "Who knows? I don't know her well enough to say. But that's what I'd do if I was in her position and I knew that at the end of the day, someone a lot more powerful was keeping me safe. Or, to get off our limb here, maybe her strange behavior has a more common explanation."

"Being?"

His solemn blue eyes met his partner's. "…It just hasn't sunk in yet."

"That John's gone?"

"That Johnny's gone, that her family's gone, that she's alone, that her life will never be the way it was while she was at Crimson Manor," he listed. "Everything. Her whole world was turned upside down. Maybe it just hasn't sunk in, and that's why she's still acting like the snotty bitch she could act like while at the Zaccharas' ancestral home."

He stared at his desk for a while, then kicked the leg. "Fuck."

Spinelli put down his half-eaten brownie, his first square to Jason's three. "What?"

"…Maybe I shouldn't have been such a dick," his mentor murmured, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Spinelli blinked. Hearing Jason express regret was a rarity. "Seriously?"

"What was I thinking?" he half-groaned. "She's just a scared, lonely little girl that had her entire life shot apart, and I was a complete bastard to her. I even threw John's death in her face."

"You would find a way to do that," the younger man agreed with a shrug.

"I've got to fix this."

Spinelli smiled, seeing the familiar way Jason's eyes were starting to glaze over. "How are you planning to do that?"

"Maybe I could…be nice to her?" The words tasted foreign on his tongue, a little unpleasant, but Jason nodded anyway. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll try to be nice to her from now on."

Spinelli glanced at the pan of brownies back on the windowsill. His mentor was a good man at heart; he knew that better than anyone. But sometimes, a little extra help was needed. That extra help had come in the form of peppermint brownies, and instead of love and kindness, the secret ingredient was, naturally, marijuana.

He turned back to Jason with a smile. "Sounds like a plan, Stone Cold."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Elizabeth's Quarters :.**

At some point during the day before, Jason had decided to be nice to Elizabeth Zacchara. He wasn't really sure when this had happened; his memory of that moment was a little fuzzy. And according to the surveillance tapes of his office, at some point after deciding to be nice to the frigid twit, he'd tried to extract cash from the microwave with what appeared to be his driver's license, and kept saying 'what the fuckkkk' when it didn't work.

Naturally, that stupid kid he worked with had drugged him.

Again.

With special brownies.

Jason had figured that after so many repeat incidents, he'd learn, but apparently, that was hoping for a little too much. He just kept eating those damn brownies every time and then woke up the next morning with his shoes taped to his feet.

Still, drugs or no, the idea had merit. Being nice to Elizabeth wouldn't hurt him any. Sure, it would be difficult to do and even more difficult to get used to, but she seemed like the kind of woman that might respond better to compliments and tenderness and all that shit.

That was why he was standing at the door to her apartment and knocking on the door. He had one goal today: be nice to her. That was it. He could do that.

…He hoped.

The door opened and Elizabeth's dull blue eyes stared up at him. "What are you doing here, Jason?"

He frowned a little at the weariness in her voice and took off his hat, holding it in front of himself as a sign of respect and proper sheepishness. "I was really hoping I could talk to you. If this isn't a good time, I can go."

That sounded like it was something she'd want to hear.

And sure enough, it seemed to work. Her eyes widened a little at the remark and reluctantly, she eased back a step. "No, it's fine. I…I guess you can come in."

She opened the door wide for him, standing back as he entered, and then walked away, leaving him to shut it. It was clear that she wanted to keep a distance between them at all times. Jason didn't push his limits.

"I wanted to a-apologize to you about yesterday."

God, it was hard to get that word out.

Elizabeth spun around, one arm wrapped around her middle and the other resting at her collarbone. "…What?"

Aw, fuck, she was going to make him repeat it.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday. I have no excuse for my behavior."

If he wasn't imagining it, his stomach was actually churning a little.

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment before finally nodding. "I agree, it was inexcusable."

Of course. Far be it for the little miss to fucking accept an apology.

Jason moved forward a little, his hat still in front of him, and tried some more. "I don't know what made me act that way toward you. You have to know that I respect your privacy and I respect your marriage. If it seems as if I'm prying, you have to know that I don't take pleasure in it and that I don't mean to. I just need to know certain things if I'm going to do the job you hired me to do and keep you safe while I'm at it."

With a small sigh, she sank down onto the mulberry red couch. Jason took this to mean that it was okay if he took off his coat and put his hat down, which he did.

"Thank you."

Acceptance. Now he could nod solemnly over this mutual truce and fucking sit down already. He selected an armchair close the couch and sank down onto it, finding it remarkably comfortable. Why didn't they have furniture like this back at the office? He'd have to get Spinelli on that at some point.

"In turn, Jason, _you _must know that I am, by nature, a very private person." The spark that had lit her vibrant sapphire eyes the last time he was here, when she nearly maimed him with the door, was noticeably absent and she looked tired and listless. He decided he didn't like the look on her.

"I've had to be," Elizabeth continued, "for the sake of my marriage, yes. You know that Johnny was a mobster; you know all of that. But even before I met him, it was very difficult for me to trust people."

He forced himself to flash her a gentle, lopsided half-smile. "Well, obviously John managed to break through your walls enough for you to marry him. Maybe I have a shot of getting you to trust me enough to keep you safe."

She wasn't warming up to him, which was a pity, because he could actually feel the acid starting to eat away at the lining of his stomach.

"It's not that I don't trust you to keep me safe. I have no problem, moral or otherwise, with you taking a bullet for me." The delicate arch of her perfectly plucked brows told him that it was her attempt at a joke, so he didn't take offense and just answered with a smirk. "It's just that I don't trust you pushing your limits the way you do. There are certain things that you ask of me, Jason, that I know you don't need to know. You simply _want_ to know them because you like puzzles, because you like figuring people out and having them laid bare to you despite the fact that I can hardly say you've been forthcoming yourself. So you have to understand that I don't work that way. I won't be turning anything over to you, much less my entire life."

"That was a poor choice of words," he told her gently, as she'd mimicked what he said to her the day before. "I was wrong to say it. Obviously, I don't expect you to turn your entire life over to me. That would be unreasonable."

Fucking hell, it was unreasonable. It was perfectly reasonable!

Her shoulders relaxed just a little bit, even though he could see she was deliberating whether or not to believe him. "Then what do you want from me, Jason?"

"I want you to tell me what you can," he said quietly, shrugging with his palms turned upward in a classic gesture of openness and surrender. From what he could tell, it was going over well. "That's all."

Elizabeth curled back on the couch, never taking her eyes off of him. "…What was it that you needed to know?"

"For starters, I wanted to know about your marriage. Nothing too sensitive," he added quickly when she opened her mouth to protest. "And if I ask something that makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me to move on."

He'd just have to find out from other sources in that event, that was all.

"…All right." She gulped and curled her arm around a throw pillow. "All right, you can ask."

"How long did you know Johnny before you married him?"

"Several years," she said softly.

Jason waited, figuring she'd launch into some nostalgic explanation about how they'd see each other from time to time at society functions but hadn't spent much time together until they both happened to be vacationing in Ibiza at the same time and after that, they saw each other a little more regularly in town. That was what he'd managed to dig up on his own and he had been hoping she'd corroborate.

But Elizabeth didn't say anything, and Jason tried to keep his irritation in check.

"Did you know any of his friends or business associates before you married him?"

"I knew his sister," came the bland reply. "I knew his butler. I knew Corwin and Simon and Hayden. I met his father only a few times. Other than that, no."

"So you met with most of his associates and his friends after you two got married?"

"Yes."

He'd done nothing but rephrase the question and she'd added nothing on to her answer. This was getting him nowhere.

"And you went against your family's wishes to marry him."

The corners of her mouth tightened. "I don't see how you'd find that relevant."

"I've seen cases like this before," he told her. "Is it possible that your family detested Johnny and his family so much that they would seek alliances with associates that they knew were his enemies?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "They pretty much cut off all contact when I married him."

"Even your uncle, the police commissioner?"

"Uncle Richard most of all."

"And you know for a fact that they never contacted any of Johnny's associates, friends or otherwise?"

"They don't know of his associates," came the simple reply. "There were very few ways for them to get that information. They never saw us. They never came to town. And Johnny kept an eye on them and would have known it if they tried anything. For their part, I think my family was too afraid of the mafia lifestyle to attempt to start anything."

Jason nodded. "You risked your whole family, your life, to marry Johnny? Why?"

The corner of her mouth lifted in a sad smile. "I loved him. He was worth it."

Jason stared at her for a long moment, trying to find a chink in that statement, anything that might indicate that it wasn't true, but he didn't see anything telling. Fuck.

"I bet he was," he said softly, mainly to be polite. His stomach churned some more. "What was your marriage like, if you don't mind my asking?"

Elizabeth shrugged, still smiling. "We were happy."

Jason arched a brow at her. "Really."

"Mm-hm."

"With Claudia, with your family refusing to speak to you, with his dangerous lifestyle…?"

Elizabeth shrugged again. "What can I say? Despite all that, we were happy. Yes, his life was dangerous. Yes, Claudia was far from an ideal sister-in-law. But we were happy."

Her emotional gestures were off. She was touching her throat, and the fond look in her eyes was delayed, stayed a little too long, and ended suddenly as if she were snapping back to attention, and Jason had every reason to believe that her previous response wasn't as truthful as her remark about loving him had been.

And that begged the question…why would she lie about that? And what more could he get her to lie about?

"I'm glad," he said, giving her what he prayed passed as a sincere smile. "From what I've heard of him, he sounded like a good man."

She nodded. "One of the best I've ever known."

Jason gritted his teeth and pushed on. "Your wedding was a pretty small affair, wasn't it?"

Elizabeth appeared to blush a little and nodded. "Yes, it was."

"Just you, John, Claudia, and the help."

"My friend Brenda was there."

Jason frowned, trying to remember the photographs he'd seen. There had been no other woman there that he remembered that didn't appear to be a maid putting the finishing touches on a flower arrangement in the background. "Uh…"

Elizabeth blinked innocently. "Brenda Barrett. She and I have been friends for years."

Brenda Barrett. Of course, Brenda Barrett, the Cuban supermodel. He'd ogled her before in various men's magazines and then got bored when she made the switch to couture lines and decided to keep her clothes on for a change. Who needed that?

But…Brenda Barrett was at her wedding? How had he missed that? Why wasn't she in any of the photographs?

Elizabeth watched him with narrowed eyes, her fingers picking at the edge of the throw pillow. It had been a lie: Brenda hadn't really been there. She had wanted to be when she found out about it the next day, but she'd been in San Tropez for a shoot.

But Jason appeared confused, maybe a little surprised, and that told her what she needed to know: he'd already done some digging around and seen her wedding photographs. He was currently trying to figure out why Brenda didn't appear in any of them.

He appeared to shake himself out of it and didn't notice the way she'd watched him. "So, you, Johnny, Claudia, and your friend Brenda. And the help."

"Yes."

"Pretty small."

"We wanted an intimate wedding."

He nodded. "I remember seeing some of your official photographs in some magazine. They're very nice."

Elizabeth smiled prettily. "Thank you."

"My sister would have loved your dress. She's got a thing for Italian lace."

"Johnny picked it out for me." She lifted her chin a notch, daring him to find something wrong with that. "He has – had – excellent taste."

Jason sucked on his teeth. "Huh."

Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, waiting for the next question.

"If you don't mind my asking – why didn't you two throw a huge wedding?" He leaned forward a little, as if they were the closest of friends. "Johnny Zacchara was a very wealthy man with a lot of friends. You were a very popular debutante in Port Charles. You could have thrown a huge reception and made it the wedding of the year."

She just shook her head. "We weren't like that. Truth be told, I would have been happy eloping. So John and I compromised and just had a small wedding at the house. It worked out best that way."

"But you must have wanted more people in attendance, your friends, his, to share the moment with."

Elizabeth shrugged. "I loathe long engagements, so we got married as soon as possible. It was during the summer, and most of my friends had already left for their vacations. They go to Ibiza and Fiji, Monaco and San Tropez, those places. They were already gone. And with my family so vehemently opposed to the match…suffice it to say, we were more than happy just having a quiet wedding at home."

He was growing frustrated. Elizabeth was alternating between telling the truth and telling lies, from what he could gather, and this really wasn't getting him anywhere. So Jason feigned a polite smile, leaned forward, and went in for the kill.

"It must have been pretty exhausting, throwing a wedding together so quickly."

Elizabeth played with a lock of hair, a study in ladylike indifference. "We had a lot of help."

"Still," he persisted. "It was your wedding day. A lot of things go into that. You must have been exhausted by the time you had to recite your vows. In some of the pictures, you're looking pretty tired."

She managed a small smile. "It was a somewhat tiring day."

"And you look very pale, too," Jason said, feigning concern. "White as a sheet. I remember when I first saw the pictures, I was actually a little worried about you."

Her fingers toyed with her hair again but faltered slightly. "…It must have been the flash exploding right in my face. Or a bad angle for my make-up."

"You looked pretty thin, too."

Her lips thinned. "I've always been petite."

Jason's eyes narrowed. "You were holding John's hands pretty tightly. In one shot, it looked like he was holding you up. It must have been a really long day for you, having to put everything together so quickly and then last through the whole ceremony…"

Elizabeth sucked in a small breath, and when she looked at him, her perfect, placid demeanor was firmly back in place. "I'm embarrassed you could tell all that from my pictures, Jason, really, I am."

She put the pillow back on the couch and placed a hand on her chest to play with her necklace, and Jason recognized the tell. Liars rarely put their hands flat on their chests; either she was telling the truth, or she was just that good a liar despite a couple slips earlier.

"You see, I wasn't feeling well that day. Claudia tried to convince me to put the wedding off, to marry John another day, but I didn't want to have everyone go through the trouble all over again. It was just dizziness – I was dehydrated, that was all. It felt like a silly reason to call off the wedding. So I took care of myself before our wedding, making sure I was rested and that I ate, and then we went ahead with it."

She arched a brow at him, and the next remark was surely meant to put him in his place. "And, besides, John made sure to take excellent care of me while we were on our honeymoon. I was back to my normal self in no time at all."

Jason bit his lower lip in frustration as she got up from the couch, surely to neatly dismiss him. He hadn't gotten anything; everything he tried, she'd just turned it right back around.

"You'll have to excuse me, Jason, I'm tired." Elizabeth turned away from him and headed toward the bedroom without bidding him goodbye, which surprised him because he had been sure her sterling elitist manners would have forbidden such conduct. "I'm sure you can see yourself out."

~*~*~*~*~*~

**.: Headquarters :.**

"You drug me one more time, I'll fucking toss you out the window."

Spinelli cringed as Jason stormed back into the office. "I take it that your meeting with Elizabeth didn't go as well as you'd hoped."

"No shit," Jason growled, throwing his coat and hat on the armchair in the corner. "Being nice to her was a complete waste of time. She's so goddamn uptight, I bet Princess shits diamonds."

Spinelli rolled his eyes, sensing immediately that his mentor was in one of his moods. It was best to lay low and not antagonize him with the sarcastic remarks. It would be a challenge, and he hoped he was up to it.

"So what are you going to do now?"

"Fuck being nice to the twit, that's what I'm going to do," he snarled, throwing his legs up on the desk and glaring at his shoes. "I'm going to have to do something drastic if I want to get through to her."


End file.
